Just Say Hi
Do you sometimes pass someone on the street and recognize him or her in time to say “hi” and don’t? Me, too. Why is that? Why do we look at the ground, or into a store window, instead of greeting that person whose name we can’t recall?
Different cultures have different habits surrounding sociability, and I get it. I’m actually fairly well-versed in cultural and gender diversity, given my education, training, and career. And, all that training sometimes disappears…poof…when I’m in public, and feeling vulnerable. I often feel vulnerable in public now. Especially in my current hometown. How awful is that?
Okay, not so awful, when I think about the other awful things in life, mine and others. Sad, maybe, is a better word for feeling this way.
In an effort to dispel the vulnerability, I’ve begun to say “hi” or “hello” to strangers. Everywhere. In grocery stores, coffee houses, parking lots, on sidewalks, anywhere I encounter people with whom I have no recognizable attachment. Sometimes they say “hi” back, sometimes they look at the ground, or into store windows. I always smile to myself when they ignore me. (…I’d never want to make you change for me…)
This exercise in saying “hi” has not been consciously engaged in my search for beauty in 2008. But, it’s happening, and I can’t stop it. I don’t think it’s specifically related to “see me, feel me, hear me” but it just might be. I’ve been thinking it’s more attached to “Hey, you’re gonna be okay, and so am I.”
I see loneliness, trauma, and grief on the faces of strangers in a way I never did before Owen died. Am I projecting my own emotions onto strangers? Maybe. Doesn’t matter. The “hi” experiment is in full-swing, and I’m getting quite a kick out of it. It’s serving some need to connect with people, people who would not ordinarily give me a second glance. Why should they? I’m just another stranger in line, waiting to pay for food that will sit in the refrigerator until my husband comes home and sees the back of my head – here at the computer, fingers clicking away on the keyboard into the night, and on occasion, into the morning. Thank you for feeding me, Dave.
My kids give me courage. They give me a need to connect. They give me a reason to wake up. Owen isn’t here to ask for a ride to work, or a trip to the local coffee house, but he’s here in spirit. And, he reminds me often, that connecting with people who might not want to be recognized for their troubles, still want to be seen, and more often, heard. Nat reminds me that I’m in this for the long-haul, and there’s no escape like getting out of yourself, and into the world. He also reminds me that I have to keep searching for beauty, because the ugliness out there is contagious…and I don’t want to get sick.
Song for the night: Hello, It’s Me, Todd Rundgren
I’m off to bed early tonight (2:00 a.m.) or a little after (grin)…I have to confess that sometimes when I see people I know, across a store or somewhere, I actually hide. I think sometimes that I am just too tired, or uninterested in small talk, to make the effort. Sometimes it’s even vanity, if I think I look older, fatter, or different than I used to. But whatever the reason, I do it. Sometimes I just can’t even muster the strength to try and engage in conversation. Yet at times, I’m lonely. (Such a mixed up lady I am.)
I also like saying “hi” and smiling at people sometimes. Most everything is easier with strangers. There are no past memories of me, no expectations (unless they’re panhandling), and nothing that I have to prove. It is what it is. A momentary face to face encounter. (But I read faces, and sometimes there are a myriad of stories in a quick glance.) I see the sadness and pain more often also. Or let’s just say, I’m less likely than ever NOY to notice it. (Maybe it takes one to know one.) And Nat’s right, getting out of myself, makes me aware of pain that is so much greater than mine. But it’s not a competition, though it is a marathon. To run the race at all is admirable, isn’t it? Goodnight-
NOT in place of NOY
I love it that none of us have figured out how to correct our typos in comments. I’m sure there’s a way, but have you noticed that most of us just post another comment with the correction, after proofreading? HA! I think we’re all so Type A, but in such a hurry to get the message out into the ethers, that we don’t reread our posts before clicking on “Submit Comment”. I love that energy that makes us want to connect in the moment, so you know what? The ethers don’t care about typos…and neither do I.
Thanks for your thoughtful comments in these last couple of days (and always), Lonnette. I can’t describe how tough they’ve been, but you’ve read and noticed, and I thank you for feeling the message…typos and all.
The race is on, and there are no winners. Keep pace with life, my friend.